


You Are My Sunshine

by drarryismyhorcrux



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s music, Auror Harry Potter, Blood and Injury, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Husbands, Love songs, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryismyhorcrux/pseuds/drarryismyhorcrux
Summary: When his husband had first heard the songYou are my Sunshine, Harry didn’t know. Whether it was back in their Hogwarts days or at some point after the war, he frankly didn’t care, as long as he was able to come home to this.Or the one where I ruin a wonderful song for you
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	You Are My Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Thanks for stumbling across my little fic! I've made a playlist with the music featured in this fic, plus some wonderful extras: [1940s Romantic Bops](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2I9Ds8s3CTput7XJ61XHH0?si=syO511wlTX2hsk3jsIiVeg)  
> Thanks to the brilliant tiggerlil for the fantastic beta-ing despite her busy schedule!  
> Find me on tumblr [here :)](https://harrypotterismyhorcrux.tumblr.com)  
> 

When his husband had first heard the song _You are my Sunshine_ , Harry didn’t know. Whether it was back in their Hogwarts days or at some point after the war, he frankly didn’t care, as long as he was able to come home to this. He watched Draco dancing around the kitchen of their little cottage in Chilham, humming the tune under his breath, letting a few of the lyrics slip out every few lines, as he whisked his wand, making an innumerable amount of things happen with a flick of his wrist. Harry stopped at the threshold and watched for a moment, leaning on the doorframe, and wondered at just how lucky he was.

Draco looked up from the cooking pot on the stove, and catching sight of Harry, beamed at him – positively beamed. Harry wouldn’t have been able to resist him even if he’d tried. He flicked his wand towards the old gramophone on the sideboard, the one that Draco had absolutely insisted they buy at an old vintage charity shop they’d walked past in London – despite Harry’s rather sensible objections that they had a radio, and a CD player, so why should they need to dusty old gramophone that would almost certainly not work? Still, they bought the bloody thing, and Harry had spent the next three months figuring out how to get it playing, crying out in triumph when he was finally able to coerce it into life. Draco had lit up on seeing it working and fetched a vast amount of records from the attic that Harry hadn’t known existed – the first one he played being _You Are My Sunshine._

Since then, cooking had often become slow dancing to the old gramophone, as it cranked out classics; _Moon River, I’m a Fool to Want You,_ and _La Vie En Rose_ being the favourites. But all paled next to _You are my Sunshine._ Dancing or singing or simply swaying as songs of a by-gone age filled their cosy kitchen, watching his husband glow as the music swelled around them, stars in his eyes, Harry couldn’t be happier.

Draco reached out to him and Harry went, hearing the first notes on a saxophone fill the room as the gramophone creaked back into service. He gathered Draco into his arms and inhaled deeply, savouring the smells of cooking, Draco’s overly expensive soap and – was that? – yes, damp earth, Draco had been back in the garden then. Draco sighed like everything it the world was back to rights now that he was in Harry’s arms.

“Missed you,” he mumbled against Harry’s skin.

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

Draco didn’t respond other than to let out a little huff and press a soft kiss to Harry’s jaw, settling into the sway of the music. Harry knew he’d been gone too long, but sometimes cases spiralled and before he knew it, he was in Prague or Amsterdam or St Petersburg, off to catch the bad guys, and leaving a disgruntled Draco behind him. This time, he’d been gone just over a week, the only notice being the few minutes it took him to apparate home to pack the essentials, Draco hadn’t even been in. He had left a note. Harry was honestly surprised he wasn’t being shouted out right now.

Draco sighed again and pulled back to look Harry in the face, he seemed to study him for a moment, furrowing his brows in concentration, scanning his eyes over Harry’s face for any scratch, any imperfection, memorising his features for the hundredth time.

Harry shifted under the scrutiny, squashing the urge to turn away. “What is it?” He breathed.

Draco’s gaze snapped back to his own. “I hate it when you leave like that,” he said, but without anger. He smiled sadly, “I really hate it.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know when you’re going to come home.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if you’re going to come home.”

“I know.”

“I can’t lose anyone else Harry.” He stared intently into Harry’s face, trapping him, and Harry was horrified to see tears beginning to well in his husband’s eyes. He caught them gently with his thumb.

“I know,” he said again, and pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead, pulling him closer as Draco took a shaky breath.

“You _have_ to come back,” Draco whispered into Harry’s chest.

“I will, Sunshine, I will.”

.*.*.*.

Draco was humming again, he was doing that more and more, disappearing into his own head and listening to music in his mind. Harry watched him with a fond smile as he flitted about their room, picking up Harry’s discarded clothing and folding it methodically, removing his own shirt and trousers and giving them the same treatment before disappearing into the bathroom. He started to sing.

Harry loved Draco’s voice, he could have listened to it for hours. He sings in such a rich voice that Harry thinks could outmatch Frank Sinatra any day. He produced the kind of sounds that reached into your soul and gripped you, you simply had to listen to him. It washed over him now like a lullaby, snatches of song reaching him over the mundane noises of Draco’s toilette. Harry felt his eyelids drooping and he burrowed down into the soft blankets, listening to his husband sing. When Draco slipped into the bed beside him, Harry pulled him close and kissed his temple.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, reaching up a hand to play with Draco’s hair. Draco let out a light chuckle but acquiesced, shifting so that he was holding Harry against his chest.

“ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey._ ” Harry let his eyes close and breathed peacefully, all worries of cases and murderers disappearing as Draco sang to him. “ _You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away._ ”

.*.*.*.

Harry let his head fall to his desk with a groan. The bastard was just beyond their reach, so why couldn’t he find the last piece of the puzzle, the last clue, so they could finally bring the fucker in. Rodolphus Lestrange had been evading capture for years; he was the last major Death Eater still not behind bars or dead despite Harry’s best and never tiring efforts. He glared down at the out of date Azkaban mugshot in the file, Lestrange seemed to gaze at him with indifference, as if he didn’t mind being captured or not. Harry growled and snapped the file closed, pushing it away from him and falling back into his chair. Maybe it was the close connection to Bellatrix that set Harry on edge, and the subsequent connection to Draco, or simply the audacity of the man to go so long without facing true justice, whatever it was, Harry’s blood was singing with the need to do something. 

An alarm sounded, coming from deep within the walls of the Ministry and the pounding of running footsteps outside the office had Harry on his feet in an instant, wand drawn and halfway to the door when Ron burst through it.

“There’s been a sighting,” he said without preamble, his face set and wand at the ready. He seemed to pause for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“Where?” He snapped, pulling on his robes and heading for the door, Ron falling into step besides him. Ron didn’t answer right away, he was gnawing on his lip in the way he did when he was hiding something. “Where Ron?” Harry pulled up short in the corridor, turning to face his best friend, panic beginning to bubble in his chest.

“Chilham,” Harry was off at a jog, half paying attention to the rest of what Ron was saying, half figuring out the next steps, the best way to track down Lestrange, and to get to Draco as quickly as possible. “Malfoy called it in, he said something about a letter from an unknown sender earlier today, and then he saw someone who could have been Lestrange outside the house. The connection was lost after that but according to Sue, she heard some sort of crash before it did.” Once the fact of it was out there the rest of the information followed in a quick deluge, falling back onto procedure as they reached the apparition point along with the rest of the team.  
Harry’s heart was in his throat, his palms sweating as he turned his wand over in his hand. He felt like he was going to throw up, but took in a deep breath. He tried to calm his nerves, treat this like any other sighting and just do his fucking job, but he suddenly couldn’t remember how any of this was supposed to work. His mind went blank, his only thoughts on reaching Draco and reaching Draco _now._

The time it took for them to get the all clear to apparate seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace, despite the fact it couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds. Standing doing nothing but waiting pulled at Harry, sending shuddering breaths through him and pins and needles into his fingertips. Finally, they could go and Harry was off, running through the door of the house with no thought for procedure or back up. At least he thought to drop the wards and allow the others to enter so they wouldn’t have to painstakingly pull them apart. 

He burst into the kitchen and stopped, scanning around methodically but finding nothing out of place. A cooking pot was happily simmering on the stove top, sending delicious smells into the room, there was a chopping board on the side with diced vegetables, ready to go in, and the old gramophone was crooning out _We’ll Meet Again._ Harry stopped, pulled up short by the normality of the scene and expecting Draco to enter from the hall at any minute,scolding him for tracking mud through to the kitchen. He shook himself and forced himself to concentrate on the details, the sound of his team entering the house and spreading out, footfalls on the staircase.

The rug by the hearth of the floo was crooked, a corner flipped up; there was a half-drunk cup of wine knocked over on the kitchen table, still dripping onto the floor; the back door was open, leading out to the garden, and beyond that woodland. The song finished, the warm crackle from the gramophone flooding the kitchen, seeming to invade Harry’s ears – all other sounds falling away. He moved as if in a daze, picking up speed, out the back door, quickly scanning the garden but passing through it with little hesitation towards the open back gate, a garden rake falling across the opening haphazardly behind him.

A flash of light in the trees ahead had him breaking into a sprint, shield charm ready on his lips. He burst into the clearing in time to see Lestrange send a deadly confringo towards Draco, who was backing away on the defensive, throwing off the onslaught of spells but evidently tiring. He stumbled backwards, his back hitting a tree and his wand dropping a fraction. Harry’s shield was too late, he was too late. The shield appeared in front of Draco as he was falling, Lestrange’s diffindo slicing cleanly across his throat, to his knees. Blood bubbled up and spilled onto Draco’s white shirt, Draco coughed and blood splattered the leaf scattered ground beneath him.

Lestrange laughed and it sounded like Lucius, Harry screamed and the killing curse flew from his wand before Lestrange had even finished turning around to face him. Harry ignored him and was on his knees with Draco before Rodolphus Lestrange hit the floor.

Draco looked up at him with wide eyes and reached out blood stained hands, which Harry took without hesitation, blood bubbling from the gash in his throat. Harry cast every healing spell he could think of, to little avail, nothing was working and Harry cried out in frustration, Draco wouldn’t manage apparition. Draco drew in a gurgling breath and coughed again, unable to draw in any oxygen, panicked eyes boring into Harry’s as his hands scrambled at Harry’s chest.

“Shush shush,” he gulped, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Draco’s hands stilled, grasping at Harry’s robes and holding fast. “Help!” Harry screamed, looking about the trees around him, but no one was there. “Help!” He called again, fighting back sobs and losing volume to tears. He pulled Draco into his arms, turning him over onto his back and cradling him like a small child, a hand pressed against the wound, Draco’s face buried in the crook of his neck. A shaking bloodied hand reached up and cupped his cheek, prompting him to look down into Draco’s face.

Draco's smile was small and resigned; he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by another cough and mouthful of blood. It was everywhere, staining his teeth, running down his chin and soaking further into his shirt. It flowed onto the hand that Harry had clasped over Draco’s throat, trying to stop the flow of the precious liquid. A tear had escaped the corner of Draco’s eye and run into his hairline. Harry moaned again, clutching his husband close and crying, unable to stop the body shaking sobs wracking his frame.

“Harry–” Draco gurgled, his hand tightening into Harry’s hair. He tried to smile again but just looked scared. “Sing?” Harry barely heard the request over his own weeping but he nodded and swallowed, determined to get a hold of himself for Draco in this last moment.

“You know I’m not that good.” He tried to joke; a watery smile plastered to his face. Draco just looked up at him, drawing in shallow gurgling breaths, fingers twitching in Harry’s hair. Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead, tightened his grip on him, and began to sing, lips pressed against his skin.

“ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey._ ” Draco seemed to relax against him fractionally, settling against him. “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” Harry’s voice broke slightly, and he knew he was butchering the tune but he didn’t care. “ _The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I woke, dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and cried._ ” Snot was running freely from Harry’s nose and he wiped it against his shoulder, another sob wracking through him as Draco fell back further, the hand in Harry’s hair dropping. “ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine._ ” He gasped a breath. “ _You make me happy, when skies are grey._ ” Draco’s head lolled onto Harry’s shoulder, the hand in his robe loosening. “ _You’ll never know dear, how much I love you._ ” Harry was hardly singing now, struggling to just get the words out. “ _Please don’t take–_ ” He sobbed again, barely able to draw in breath. “Please don’t take–” He completely broke down, pulling Draco closer still, the flow of blood sickeningly slowing and Draco’s hand falling from Harry’s neck.

A hand squeezed Harry’s shoulder and he started, snapping his head up, immediately ready to hex whoever it was.

Ron looked down at him, a solitary tear on his cheek. “He’s gone mate. He’s gone Harry.”

Harry looked down into Draco’s face, his eyes open but staring unseeing at the canopy above them, a slight smile lingering on his lips, tear tracked edged into his cheeks. Harry looked at Draco with new shock, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He shook him slightly. “Draco?” He shook him again, harder. “Draco!? No, no, no, no, no. He can’t– You’re not– Draco? Sunshine?” Panic seized his heart and screamed in pure anguish, a primal and raw sound dragged from him by visceral grief.

“Harry?” Ron said, gently trying to get Harry to look at him, but Harry’s eyes were fixed on the unseeing ones of his husband. “Harry, come on, let him go, come on.”  
More hands were on him now, trying to take Draco from him. He screamed again and a wave of magic burst from him causing everyone to jump back from him.

“No,” he whispered and swallowed down more tears. “No.” He finally reached up and closed Draco’s eyes, now he could be sleeping. That’s right, Harry was singing him to sleep, just like normal, just like Draco did for him. He sucked in a shaking breath and felt fresh tears spill from his eyes, silent now. He had to finish the song.

“ _You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away._ ”


End file.
